Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

I’m not sure what to say to this. It’s the first I’m hearing of it. Why didn’t Nanna Dot do the same for me when she knew I loved performing just as much as Jordy. When I was right here in Sunset Bay?

“Shit, Nina. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

“It’s fine,” I say. But it’s not fine. This information has chipped the relationship I thought I shared with Nanna Dot, like the first chip in the holiday China. I had always assumed I was Nanna’s favorite, though I never said it out loud—but come on, I lived with her. Jordy came over all the time, but I was here every day. Nanna and I had our secrets, our late evening talks. I knew her routine by heart, and she knew mine. I knew the messages behind every expression on her face. I even knew the way she took her coffee every morning—two teaspoons of sugar, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a drop of vanilla, finished with a splash of cream and stirred exactly three times.

I knew Nanna Dot—or at least I thought I did.

“She got you horseback riding lessons,” Jordy continues, making me realize I haven’t rearranged the disappointment in my face. She’s not even mentioning the inheritance, which is kind of her. I have no right to feel this bitter, but between the whisky dullness in my brain and the suddenness of this new information, I’m vibrating with jealousy.

“That was years later,” I say, my jaw aching from how clenched it is. I get that fair is fair and all that shit—but it’s not fair. We both wanted to sing and act, but apparently Nanna Dot only saw potential in one of us. “And you know why? Because Nanna Dot thought I needed something to take my mind off being raped by the high school football captain and his friends, not because I had any talent.”

The words are out of my mouth before I’ve even had time to process what I’m saying. Then they freeze between us as reality hits us like shit on a fan.

“What did you say?” Jordy asks, as I say, “Holy fuck,” at the same time.

“Holy hell, Nina. You were…” She pauses, and I can see her doing the math. “That’s why you moved in with Nanna and started homeschooling,” she murmurs. “And why you stopped talking to me about anything. It’s why we drifted apart.”

“Oh sure, blame me,” I spit out. “As if you didn’t believe every lie our mothers told you about my relationship with Nanna Dot.”

“That’s not what I—”

But I wave her words away. I know she didn’t mean it, but I feel viperish, ready to strike. I swig at my whisky, relishing the way it rakes over my throat like peroxide on a skinned knee.

“My mom suggested I live here to heal,” I continue. “But really it was because she couldn’t look at her damaged daughter anymore. When Nanna Dot died and left me everything, my mom had the audacity to tell everyone I’d manipulated an old lady into writing her daughters out of her will, even though she knew why I was here, and why I stayed. But she didn’t know anything about the nightmares, or how I couldn’t even leave the house. My mom didn’t know how my screams woke Nanna every night, keeping both of us up.” I take a deep sob of a breath, realizing that I’m crying. With shaky hands, I swipe at my nose, trying to anchor the air I can’t catch. “I didn’t even want the money,” I say. “I wanted Nanna Dot because she was the only one who cared about me. But now I find out that she was paying for you to be something great. She never did that for me.”

“Nanna Dot loved you,” Jordy says.

I huff out a laugh. “I know,” I say. “That’s not a doubt. But she saw me as a caged bird while you were a swan. She kept me safe, but she invested in your future.”

“Really? You have millions in your bank account and live in one of the biggest homes in Sunset Bay, and you’re crying because Nanna Dot didn’t send you to acting and singing lessons?”

It really is ridiculous. I sound like a spoiled brat right now, squatting in a mansion with all the money in the world. But it’s not about the money, and I tell her as much.

“She saw something in you that she didn’t see in me,” I finally say. “That’s what hurts.”

We’re quiet for a moment. Jordy plays with her empty glass. I’m feeling drunk enough to know I don’t want more. Instead, I go to the sink and pour myself a glass of water, and after a moment, I pour one for her too.

“Thank you,” she says when I place it in front of her. She takes a sip, the silence in the room as loud as the silence of the past few years. “It wasn’t what you think,” she finally says. “Yes, Nanna offered. But I don’t think it had anything to do with me. There was always weird energy between Nanna and my mom, as if Nanna could never do enough for us. My mom was constantly crying poor, but we had money. At least, we lived comfortably enough. But whenever Nanna was around, Mom would go on and on about how much we were struggling, and how I was growing out of my clothes so fast. When Nanna mentioned a talent agency, my mom laughed in her face, said she was working too hard to cart me around. Besides, there wasn’t enough money for classes or costumes or any beauty treatments I’d likely need for something like that. So Nanna took care of it, and soon she was driving hours every week, sometimes a few times a week, just so I could go to these classes.”

She places her glass on the center island and looks me in the eye. “But Nina, I hated it. All of it. There was so much to learn, and I wasn’t any good. I was surrounded by professional actors, most of them younger than me, who seemed to be made for the stage. But I would forget my lines, my voice would crack, and I had absolutely no coordination. And once my mom got into it, everything got worse. The pressure I felt in the lessons was now at home since my mom made me practice every free minute of the day. Soon, it wasn’t just acting and dancing, but singing and piano too. She saw me as our family’s answer to escape poverty, even though we were far from poor. But no matter what I did, I wasn’t good enough.”

Hearing this, I’m almost glad Nanna didn’t choose me. I could almost imagine the strict diets my mom would have forced on me. Well, stricter, at least.

“It doesn’t really matter what we do, our moms will never think we’re good enough,” I muse. Jordy holds her glass out to me, and I tap it with my own in a toast.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she says. “Imagine what it was like when I got pregnant.”

“Wait, what? You were pregnant?”

“You didn’t know?” She shakes her head. “Shit, of course you didn’t. Your mom knew, but my mom made me keep it a secret from everyone else, especially from Nanna Dot. As if getting pregnant without getting married is some huge sin in this day and age.”

“But when? What happened?” I’m crossing and uncrossing my fingers, hoping it was years ago.

“I was pregnant when Nanna Dot died,” she says, and I feel the air leave my lungs while the walls cave in. “I lost the baby a few days later, just before the funeral.”

The memory of that day exists behind a layer of fog. I was a ghost of a girl, barely able to function in the wake of the loss of my grandmother. I do remember Jordy, standing next to her mother in a shapeless black dress, her face puffy from crying. Or maybe from the baby she’d just lost…

But more than anything is the realization that this was Brayden’s baby too. That Jordy and Brayden are not just some casual couple who aren’t meant to be together. No, they were going to be parents, to raise a child together. It makes my feelings for him seem immature and childish.